


Ground Up and in my Freezer

by CaptainnAustralia, MajorAccent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, No Hale Fire, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainnAustralia/pseuds/CaptainnAustralia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorAccent/pseuds/MajorAccent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a barista.<br/>Derek is... Also a barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a joke I read forever ago on 4chan.  
> Which was, "I like my men like I like my coffee, ground up and in my freezer."  
> And this is my first coffee shop AU. Which shouldn't be surprising since I'm more of a tea drinker.

"One medium caramel cappuccino, please," the kid wearing a Starbucks apron says. He's smiling wide and leaning on both of his hands, splaying his long fingers against the wooden grain.  
  
Derek raises his eyebrow, letting his eyes flick down to the name tag that reads " _ **STILES**_ ,"  clipped on the bright green strap on his shoulder. "Can't you get it where you work?" He asks instead of ringing up the order.  
  
The Starbucks opened a month and a half back, right across the street from Howl All Night. Even though they haven't necessarily lost business, Derek's still dealing with Laura's rants about corporations trying to run-out small businesses and middle America. Which isn't even true, because they're in California, but he's learned not to goad her when she's yelling about their competitor while handling steamed milk.  
  
"God, no," the kid— _Stiles_ , apparently—waves his hand. "It's all chemically based sludge," he continues, a grimace and dramatic gag crossing his features. "I should know, I'm the one making them."  
  
Derek frowns, but taps the keys to the cash register. "Three dollars, ninety-five cents," he says and turns to start the machine.

Stiles laughs. "I would have paid twice as much at Starbucks," he says and slaps down a five from his wallet.  
  
Derek makes change as the milk foams. "Can't you get fired for this?" He asks, capping the cup and passing it over.  
  
"Probably," Stiles answers and blows into the slit, making the plastic pop up at the pressure. "But I told my supervisor that I was trying to hit on you," he shrugs and takes a cautious sip.  
  
"And you're not going to now?" Derek asks, reigning in the hopefulness that wants to taint his voice. A lot of people have come in and ordered drinks specifically to hit on him or Laura, making bad jokes about how they like hot things or if they could get whipped cream on that.  
  
Stiles snorts a laugh, wincing immediately. "No," he answers and clears his throat, rubbing at it to soothe the burn from swallowing too quickly. "I'm sure you deal with enough people asking you to make their dirty chai filthy," he grins.  
  
Derek nods, smiling begrudgingly. "Unfortunately," he admits before movement over Stiles' shoulder catches his attention. "There's a dude staring angrily at your back," he warns, trying not to be obvious he's looking at the guy who's behind the counter at Starbucks. He shifts back to Stiles who looks like he's trying to contain his laughter.  
  
"That's Danny," he explains. "He's mad jealous that I'm talking to you right now... Or mad that I'm on break while he has to deal with the after work rush."  
  
"... Jealous?" Derek repeats dimly.  
  
Stiles nods. "Yeah," he answers. "He's all: "Stiles, look how tall, dark, and handsome he is." and "Stiles, I think he was sewn into his henley."" He waves his hand. "I'm exaggerating, but it's basically that annoying."  
  
"Oh," Derek says, blinking dumbly.  
  
"I've gotta go," Stiles says with a glance to the clock hanging on the back wall. He downs the rest of his drink, head tilted back as he swallows quickly. He turns, circling as he scans the perimeter of the cafe.  
  
"Here," Derek interrupts, beckoning with an out-stretched hand. "I can throw it away for you."  
  
Stiles smiles widely. "Thanks—" he stutters, glancing down to Derek's chest. "Derek," he says and nods, like he's trying to commit it to memory. "Thanks for the coffee, too."  
  
"Yeah," Derek nods. "No problem."  
  
Stiles hums, leaning back on the counter, noticeably more in Derek's personal space. "I'm going to tell Danny you were into it," he says. "He won't bother you if I do," Stiles explains like it's a consolation.  
  
Derek frowns, and briefly wonders if it can be seen through the window, but promptly dismisses the thought. "He wasn't bothering me before," he shrugs.  
  
"No," Stiles agrees. "But he'll also stop making comments about you to me, so it's a win for both of us."  
  
"Don't you have to get back to work?" Derek asks, not glancing back to the clock as he stares Stiles down.  
  
Stiles frowns. "Soon,"  he says, stepping back. "But he's going to ask," Stiles continues. "So, I can either tell him you're woefully straight and have to deal with Starbucks coffee and Danny still wistfully opining about you, or tell him you flirted back and continue to drink actual coffee while simultaneously stopping any conversations about your jawline." He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "One of these options are better than than the other, Derek."  
  
"Fine," Derek rolls his eyes, sighing heavily.  
  
Stiles smiles again, wide and blinding. "Great, wonderful." He takes another step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I owe you," he says and walks out the glass door.  
  
Derek frowns and turns to find a rag to wipe down the counters, distracting himself from watching Stiles follow through.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It means,” Stiles continued after a large breath, “that I am going to have to work the work of two staff members for the next four hours AND stay late because Greenburg doesn't know the difference between a mop and a cat’s ass so I am begging you, please, if there is one kind bone in your incredibly fantastic body, can I get a coffee and pay you next time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part was written for Holly as proof that my superpower is AUs.  
> And because Holly is an amazing person, she decided to continue it.

“Back again, Starbucks? Your boss has to be getting suspicious,” Derek asked while Stiles approached to the counter, shifting change in his hand. Stiles had been in every day at the same time for the past three weeks.

Derek had changed his shift scheduled. It had _absolutely nothing_ to do with Stiles and the joking ‘I missed you yesterday’ that had been flung in his direction as a result of Stiles coming in and Laura being on shift. What did it matter anyway? It was _their_ store. He could change his hours.

Laura didn’t say anything but she got that same look on her face that she’d had when they were ten and they were messing around in the kitchen and Derek KNEW that _that_ was going to bite him in the ass. But for now, he was blessedly alone with Stiles, the store empty due to the terrible weather outside that Stiles had braved crossing the street in to be in a _real_ coffee shop.

Stiles, at whom he was staring; there was a shiny wetness clinging to Stiles eyelashes from the rain, the redness in his cheeks blooming rapidly from the sudden warmth of the shop and—

“Yes actually,” Stiles sighed, bringing Derek back into the land of the living, “he is. So much so in fact that I wasn’t even allowed to bring my wallet with me in fear of my purchasing the ‘traitorous home-brew of the small town miscreants while engaging in my embarrassing acts of courting.’”

Stiles snorted and leaned against the counter.

“Like Finstock hasn’t been living in Beacon Hills for his entire life. ‘Small town miscreants’, Jesus, what did you do to the guy?”

Derek opened his mouth as if to answer (which, upon reflection was stupid — there was no rational response to Finstock) but Stiles was staring at his hand again, counting his change and had continued talking.

“Basically, what I’m getting at is I have like, a buck and a half here because Finstock took my wallet — which, by the way, is that legal?! — but I cannot go back to that store un-caffeinated because Danny has a cold and Greenburg is on shift with me when I get back from break. Greenburg, Derek, do you know what that means?!” 

Derek rose an eyebrow, his lips quirked, but said nothing because Stiles was in ‘rant mode’.

“It means,” Stiles continued after a large breath, “that I am going to have to work the work of _two_ staff members for the next four hours AND stay late because Greenburg doesn’t know the difference between a mop and a cat’s ass so I am begging you, please, if there is one kind bone in your incredibly fantastic body, can I get a coffee and pay you next time?”

Stiles pushed his lips out in a pout, making his eyes wide and clasping his hands together under his chin in a begging demand. Derek’s heart leapt but his face remained completely deadpan because apparently emotions were only for special holidays and when Mom made cookies.

“A mop and a cat’s ass? Really?”

“ _That’s_ what you took from my desperate pleas?” Stiles exclaimed, his hands flying into the air and his eyebrows going up in his standard ‘I’m-so-done-with-your-shit-Derek-Hale’ face.

And yes, Derek understands that he should not find it pleasing that Stiles not only has an ‘I’m-so-done-with-your-shit-Derek-Hale’ face but that Derek can recognize it.

Derek let the grin he’d been holding back slip onto his face, rolling his eyes at the younger boy and moving to the machine.

“Your usual, I presume?”

“You are a god. A freakishly muscular, henley wearing, coffee making _god._ Odes will be written about you. Statues erected in your honor. People will fall at your feet out of love and _sweet jesus thank you,_ ”

Derek laughed unashamedly as Stiles greedily took the cup, gulping without bothering to blow first and immediately choking on the hot milk.

“I hate you,” Stiles muttered, glaring as he used a napkin to wipe up the milk he had coughed onto his apron. Derek schooled his laughter, but his smile remained plastered to his face.

“That’s not a very good way to talk to a god. What was that about odes and statues? Shouldn’t you be falling at my feet? I actually know what a mop is, our floors are clean enough for you to do that.”

“I take it back, I take it all back. You’re a bad, bad man.”

Derek leaned forward on his elbows, cocking his head at Stiles over the counter.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it,” he murmured.

Stiles cheeks flushed red in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Derek coughed when Stiles didn’t say anything, straightening up.

“Oh man,” Stiles muttered under his breath, before plastering a grin on his face and throwing back his head, chugging — god his _throat,_ it should be _illegal_ for him to swallow like that— the coffee down.

“Right,” he wheezed when he was done, trying to breathe, “gotta dash. See you tomorrow oh, all mighty one.”

Derek laughed, taking the cup back and watching as Stiles pulled his arms around him and vanished out into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Holly's tumblr](http://www.captainnaustralia.tumblr.com).  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She nods, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “Is that why you switched shifts with Isaac for today?” She asks, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
> 
> Derek sighs. “He has a test he wanted to study for,” he lies. He doesn’t know Isaac’s classes beyond him not being able to work on Thursdays and flexible on Monday/Wednesdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes. There are a lot of chapters to this.

“Here, before I’m late,” Stiles says in a rush. He swallows thickly, trying to regain his breath as he takes in ragged lungfuls, trying to tie his apron behind his back. “That should cover yesterday,” he says, less breathy before he rubs his forearm across his brow.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, not moving to take the money as he watches the heaving motions of Stiles’ shoulders as they gentle to normal.

Stiles nods avidly, casting a glance up to the clock before he frowns. “Yeah, I woke up late and had to sprint here,” he explains. “I’m kind of early now, but I just wanted to make sure we’re square with my debt.”

Derek rolls his eyes and pours a cup of water, sliding it across the counter for Stiles to take. “You didn’t have a debt,” he scoffs. “I’m not going to hunt you down over a couple quarters.”

“Oh,” Stiles uttered after he finished the glass. “Well,” he shrugs. “I don’t like owing people money, so. We’re even now.”

“Go to work, Stiles,” Derek sighs, jerking his chin to the windows that point out to the Starbucks.

Stiles smiles, leaning on the counter. “I’ll be back around dinner time, honey,” he beams and leaves.

“You two should just make-out already,” Laura says, suddenly next to him in the front of their store.

Derek scowls, jerking back away from her. “How long have you been there?” He asks.

She smiles, shrugs and crosses her arms. “Long enough,” she comments airily as she watches Stiles look both ways before dashing across the street, the crisscrossing straps of his apron dragging down the middle of his shoulders to meet with the tie that cinched his waist.

“Yup,” she nods, crossing her arms as she turns to cast her knowing look to Derek. “He fits your type to a T.”

Derek scowls. “I don’t have a type,” he maintains, cleaning the frothing wand of one of their machines with more force than necessary before Laura’s smug expression makes him stop.

“Sure,” she agrees and props herself on to the counter.

“I don’t,” he repeats.

She nods, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “Is that why you switched shifts with Isaac for today?” She asks, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

Derek sighs. “He has a test he wanted to study for,” he lies. He doesn’t know Isaac’s classes beyond him not being able to work on Thursdays and flexible on Monday/Wednesdays.

Laura laughs at him and slides off the counter. “Okay,” she concedes, dismissing him as she turns to unabashedly watch as Stiles yanks a mop from a guy’s hand looking like he’s yelling at him before he begins to clean up a spill of some girl’s frappuccino.

“Damn,” she whistles as the guy retreats to the backroom with a frown, looking like Stiles wounded him. “He went off on that dude.”

“Greenburg,” Derek supplies absentmindedly.

Laura looks at him, lifting her perfectly manicured brow. “Who?” She asks.

Derek frowns. “Greenburg,” he repeats. “Stiles was… Complaining about him a couple days ago.”

She nods, making an acknowledging noise as she shifts back to peering out across the street. “He has nice shoulders,” Laura remarks, inclining her head, silently telling Derek to _really_ look. Stiles’ lithe muscles are bunching and pulling as he works the mop back and forth, lifting to dunk it back into the bucket and wring it out. He looks up, catching them as they gawk at him from behind their counter. He raises a brow, curious expression dawning before Laura shrugs and turns to walk back to their kitchen.

“We’re out of lemon bars,” Derek yells to her as he goes back to cleaning the frothing wand, ignoring the feeling of Stiles still staring at him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you do this we can’t be friends anymore,”
> 
> “Shut up,”
> 
> “I mean it. This is a crime. This is sacrilege. This is a cry for help. This is… I’m running out of effective words but you know what I mean.”
> 
> “Stiles,”
> 
> “Derek, don’t do this okay? There are people in this world who still care about you. Laura! Think of Laura! And Isaac!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the things people have been missing when they're not on tumblr.

“If you do this we can’t be friends anymore,”

“Shut up,”

“I mean it. This is a crime. This is sacrilege. This is a cry for help. This is… I’m running out of effective words but you know what I mean.”

“Stiles,”

“Derek, don’t do this okay? There are people in this world who still care about you. Laura! Think of Laura! And Isaac!”

”Oh for gods sake,” 

“I can’t let this happen.” 

Derek glared at Stiles across the counter. The other side of the counter. Because he’d finally done it. 

It took him two months of ribbing from Laura, of knowing looks from Isaac, of  _concerned phone calls from their mother_ , of awkwardly making eye-contact through the window and tireless flirting and subtle hand touches. It took him two months of practically pure torture and now he was here, in the god forsaken Starbucks with his only excuse for being here that he wanted to try this deadly substance that Stiles so clearly hated and he was being  _refused service_.  

“Just give me my damn coffee Stiles.”

“There are  _other options_  Derek! Like… water! Their water here is  _fine_  I have it all the time!” 

“Can you even make a cup of coffee or have you faking it this entire time?”

“Of course I can make the coffee,” 

“Then get to it,” 

“I just  _refuse_  to murder someone I care about!” 

There was a strong moment of silence while Derek blinked, mouth hanging open and Stiles turned several different colours. 

“You care about me?” Derek asked hesitantly. 

Several emotions flickered across Stiles face too fast for Derek to catch before it settled on incredulous. 

“Of course I care. Seriously? How do you not know this? You make the best coffee this side of the country and then expect me  _not_ to care? Pfffft,” Stiles stepped away from the counter, messing with the machine but not actually making anything, “as if. Totally unlikely. But it’s just the coffee though. You know. I only care because of the coffee. Yeah.”

Derek could feel his smile, bubbling up in his chest and slowly spreading across his face while Stiles babbled, refusing to meet Derek’s eyes. 

“You  _care_ about me.” 

“Yes, yes, we’ve established I’m a big emotional dude with feelings,” Stiles snapped without any real heat, “but you’re still not getting that coffee because the fact of the matter is that yes, I do care about you and also because my father is the Sheriff and I’ve always been taught  _murder is wrong_ so,” 

Derek just stood there, grinning stupidly back at Stiles, for such a long time that Stiles actually flushed again and another customer — whom had arrived sometime during Derek’s grinning stupidity — cleared their throat. 

Derek jumped and glared at them when he turned around but turned back to Stiles.

“This isn’t over Starbucks,” he said in a serious voice before turning to leave, “I’ll get that coffee out of you.”

Stiles snorted in the middle of Derek’s dramatic exit and called out a loud, “See you on break, babe!” as the door swung closed behind him. Derek turned back to see Stiles cackling behind the counter, giggling through the other customer ordering their drink. 

“So did you give him your number?” 

Derek glared at Laura as he walked back thought their shop, heading out the back. Laura followed — there were  _customers,_ and she was bothering him what the hell _—_  closing the door behind her. 

“Right, that’s it.”

Instinct had Derek freezing. That was Laura’s ‘I’m-so-through-with-your-shit-Derek-Hale’ voice and much unlike Stiles ‘I’m-so-through-with-your-shit-Derek-Hale’ voice, Derek did  _not_  enjoy hearing that tone coming from his sister. Because that generally meant he was about to be bullied into something he didn’t want to do. Or yelled at. 

“Laura,”

“No. I am done with this now. It’s been  _months_  Derek, months of you tiptoeing around each other and making goo-goo eyes. You messed with the roster and I ignored it. You’ve been unfocused, too busy watching across the street but again, I’ve ignored it. But it’s becoming unhealthy — you’re both into each other. You’re both adults. You need to man up and freakin’ take a chance.”

“Look—”

“Do I look done? No. I’m not. So hush, little brother, class is in session.”

Laura snapped a finger to the stool beside the bench out back and Derek all but fell into it, eyes downcast. Stupid older sisters.

“Stiles is a very nice young man. Attractive, energetic. He argues back with you and he’s strong. He’s your type from top to bottom, and on that note he could probably fuck you sideways and you’ve be limpin’ around with a smile about it, so there’s a plus”

“God, Laura!” 

“ _And,”_ she continue strongly, “other people are going to notice that Derek. Other people are going to see Stiles and ask him out! A good looking boy like that? He’s not going to wait for you forever, Derbear.” 

Derek felt his stomach drop miserably, his head drooping. 

“The difference between those random idiots and  _you_ is that you  _know_  Stiles. You’re friends. You actually care about each other. He wouldn’t just be some random pick up to you, would he? Another casual fuck?” 

“No!” 

Laura’s grin was smug and it just made Derek hunch over again from where he’d snapped straight in objection. He looked away with a touch of bitterness. Sure it was all so simple when  _she_ spelled it out. Just ask him out, of course, that wouldn’t cause  _hundreds of issues._

“It’s not that easy Laura. What happened if Stiles said no? What if he laughed and walked away? I can’t lose him like that. Or worse, what if he said  _yes?_  I’d never be enough for him! He’d get bored or he’d get resentful. He’d walk away in the middle of the night without saying goodbye and I’d never see him again and,” 

“Oh honey,”

He felt a finger under his chin, tilting his head up and when he met Laura’s eyes they were sympathetic. 

“Derek. Stiles isn’t Kate,” Derek jolted and Laura gripped his chin firmly to stop him from running and force him to listen, “and he isn’t going to empty your bank account and run away. That boy across the street is  _crazy_ about you; Kate was just plain  _crazy_. You have to learn that not everyone in this world is out to get you little brother.” 

Laura let go of his chin and sighed. 

“You have two weeks Der. Then I’m going to start  _helping_ you.” 

Derek snorted from where he was slumped in his stool like he was incredibly tired. 

“What was this if it wasn’t your attempt at  _helping?_ ” he muttered bitterly.

“An Intervention. Isaac wanted to be here, he had a cake and everything. It’s in the fridge. We just want you to be happy Der. Even if we have to drag you kicking and screaming into it.” 

With that, Laura flounced out to the front of the store to serve the long line of customers. 

(The cake was a blindingly fluorescent blue with ‘Sorry about your emotional constipation!’ on the top in swirly bright green writing. It was the ugliest cake Derek had ever seen. It tasted okay though.) 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I play piano?” Stiles explains, vaguely confused. “For the San Francisco Symphony?” He sets his drink down and leans back, eyebrows scrunched down into a line. “Laura talked to me about this like yesterday, I thought you knew.”

“So, I gave my three weeks’ notice,” Stiles says as he chews on the straw to his iced espresso.  
  
Derek almost drops the pitcher he’d been cleaning. “What?” He asks, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turns to look at him. “You’re quitting?”  
  
Stiles nods, a weird look on his face. “Well, yeah,” he answers. “This was my down season.”  
  
“Your down season,” Derek repeats, staring at Stiles as he tries to understand.  
  
“I play piano?” Stiles explains, vaguely confused. “For the San Francisco Symphony?” He sets his drink down and leans back, eyebrows scrunched down into a line. “Laura talked to me about this like yesterday, I thought you knew.”  
  
Derek looks to Stiles’ hands. He knows they’re long, has seen them rapping against the counter in a silent beat like he can't contain himself; it makes sense now when Stiles presses his thumb into a sweep as if he were playing a scale, the pads of his fingers making soft thumps against the wood. “How long are you here for?” He asks, looking back to Stiles’ face.  
  
Stiles shrugs, looking up to the clock. “My break ends in five.”  
  
“No,” Derek shakes his head, correcting. “I mean, here. In Beacon Hills.”  
  
Stiles’ brows raise up his forehead. “A month,” he says after a beat. “Enough time to tie up loose ends. Get back to the city.”  
  
“Oh,” Derek acknowledges, turning back to cleaning out the dishes in the sink. “Do you—“ He starts and frowns, because he knows Stiles is watching him. “Do you come back for long weekends?”  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles says, playing with the rim of his mug. “Mostly to visit my dad, though.”  
  
Derek nods, reaching for the ceramic. “So, you’ll be back?”  
  
Stiles smiles at him, holding out the cup for him to take. “Why? Are you going to miss me?” He asks, eyes wide with delight.  
  
“No,” Derek lies, but his mouth’s quirked at the corners and it’s lacking any real conviction.  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs, sliding off his stool. “Fine,” Stiles says, waving his hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
Derek hesitates, but snags Stiles’ sleeve. “Wait, I—” He frowns, grabbing for an old receipt and pen that's by the register, scribbling down his number. “Here,” he offers. “If you want to work in a coffee shop that’s not Starbucks next time you have an off season.”  
  
He blinks, holding the paper in his hands. “Yeah,” Stiles nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I mean, why else would you give me your number, right?” He asks, and he’s smiling again but his eyes are hard. “Later, dude,” he nods and leaves, not looking back.  
  
“Shit,” Derek swears. “ _Shit_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I gave him my number and told him to use it if he ever wanted job in a real coffee shop and he just sort of stormed away.” 
> 
> “Oh honey,”
> 
> “Don’t you ‘oh honey’ me woman,”

“Why won’t you  _help me_? What happened to ‘two weeks until I start helping?’ It’s been two weeks. And now, NOW, he’s MOVING AWAY FOREVER and you’re doing  _nothing_ ,” Derek whined —  _whined_  for god’s sake he was bordering on desperate if that tone was coming out — lying where he’d collapsed uselessly onto the sofa when he’d gotten home. He was dotted with tiny multi-coloured specks from the m&ms Isaac was throwing at him from the arm chair, some burying into his hair, others settling into the folds of his clothes, and one sitting directly in the center of his forehead. As entertaining as it was to watch Derek slowly disappear under Isaac’s m&m assault, it only served as a greater example of Derek’s depressed mood when he didn’t react, or even move to flick the chocolates away.

”Because there is nothing for me to do. It’s all up to you now, little brother.” 

“But I gave him my number, I did like you said! And he just looked… angry. He thought it was for a  _job!_ I couldn’t have BEEN any clearer!” 

This was pathetic. Derek was  _sulking._ Laura snapped a photo of the scene before her (because it was  _hilarious_  and she could show it at Stiles and Derek’s wedding) snatched the m&ms off Isaac (not to stop the throwing but because he was wasting m&ms and that was just unfair, Laura wanted to eat those) and fell onto the chair next to Isaac, forcing him to squish up to the edge. 

“Hey! They’re mine!”

“Shut up kidlink, I’m trying to think here. What did you  _say_  when you gave him your number?” 

“Don’t you have your own apartment to go back too?” Isaac whined. 

“Shuttup Isaac,” the Hales chorused together and the younger boy just sighed, standing and moving into the kitchen, muttering about how it was a bad idea to move in with your boss because your bosses sister would  _never leave and steal all your candy._

“Well, go on,” Laura said, poking in the m&m bag for a certain colour. Derek sat up, turning to face Laura and sending a small waterfall of m&ms to the floor. The one on his forehead (blue, dammit that was Laura’s favourite and yes, they DID taste different with different colours) continued to remain stubbornly stuck there. 

“I gave him my number and told him to use it if he ever wanted job in a real coffee shop and he just sort of stormed away.” 

“Oh honey,”

“Don’t you ‘oh honey’ me woman,” 

“Derek, he thinks you offered him a job.”

“I did. But I also gave him my number! I didn’t need to do that!” 

Laura stared blankly at Derek. Derek stared blankly back. Isaac looked between them from the kitchen doorway, chewing slowly on a bag of chips like he was watching the world’s most interesting movie. 

“You’re an idiot,” Laura breathed, like she was completely surprised by this fact. Isaac snorted and Derek growled, throwing himself back down on to the couch like a stubborn child. 

It was time to take serious action. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONUS TEXTING SCENE: Laura problem solves the best way she knows how. OR, How to gain a guy for your brother in ten sent texts or less.

— New Contact Added: Brother’s Butt Buddy— 

 **Unknown Number:**  My brother is sulking and whining because you failed to pick up on the fact that he’s pretty much completely in love with you and wants to have your ass babies. Please call him so I can stop watching this love fest, it’s very pathetic. 

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  … who is this? 

 **Unknown Number:**  Micheal J Fox. Who do you think it is dumbass?

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  … Laura? How did you get my number? 

 **Unknown Number:**  Not of import. Now do something about this mess. Derek’s idea of a successful dating routine would be to club you over the head and drag you back to his cave so if you want to get anywhere with him I suggest YOU ask HIM out. Also be very, very clear — he gave you his number as a ‘please call me and don’t leave me’ thing but I don’t think that came across, so I imagine this level of stupi— 

 **Unknown Number:**  —dity will go both ways and he won’t be able to recognize an opportunity for a date anymore than he can give one. He’s sulking right now because he thinks you won’t love him which we all know is a lie. If it becomes pining I will find you and I will hurt you. 

— New Contact Add: Devil thy name is Laura— 

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  Laura, as much as I appreciate your uh… efforts, I think you have the wrong idea. I’ll admit okay, I have a crush on your brother but that doesn’t mean he likes me back. You don’t have to make fun of me for it like this. I thought you were better than that. 

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**   _-image attached; 50kb-_  Not messing around here. Stiles, he’s been like this since he found out you were leaving him and wouldn’t gently kiss him goodbye at the station or something. Make it stop. 

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  … why is he covered in m&m’s?

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**  Some questions are better left unanswered. Look, just promise me you’ll come by tomorrow and let him try again?

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  I’m there everyday Laura. I’ll… I’m coming by tomorrow. If this is all some big joke I swear… 

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**  Again, not joking around here. I just want Derek to be happy. Derek wants you. Ergo, I am helping. 

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  Anyone ever told you that you’re not very good at helping people? 

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**  Nope! See you tomorrow! 

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**  Oh, and Stiles?

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  … what

 **Devil thy name is Laura:**  If you hurt him I will hunt you down, cut off your balls and make you eat them and then strangle you with your own intestines. Okay? 

 **Brother’s Butt Buddy:**  This plan is going to go very, very badly I can see it now. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She texted me,” Stiles went on. “How she got my number, I don’t know.”
> 
> “She’s sneaky,” Derek states like it’s a rule of the universe.

Stiles sits at the bar, his brow already raised as Derek stops trying to unclog the portafilter to look at him. “Got any more M&M’s?” He asks, his mouth quirked a bit in mocking.  
  
Derek stands straighter immediately, his shoulders making an appearance over the top of the espresso machine. “How do you—” He starts and stops just as quickly. “What did Laura say to you?” He asks instead, resigned to his fate of an older sibling that lived to make his life difficult.

  
“She didn’t talk to me,” he says, leaning his chin into his open palm, fingers curling to his jaw. “She texted me,” Stiles went on. “How she got my number, I don’t know.”  
  
“She’s sneaky,” Derek states like it’s a rule of the universe.  
  
Stiles nods his agreement. “But,” he breaks in, finger pointing in accusation. “The question here is why she thinks you’re, uh… Sulking,” he’s frowning by now, looking vaguely uncomfortable “Over me, apparently.” He laughs, sounding hollow. “I mean, like  that would even happen.”  
  
“It did—I was,” Derek says, suddenly frustrated. “How are you missing this?” He asks, bracing his hands on the counter as he crowds into Stiles’ space. “We don’t even have macchiato on the menu, but I still make it for you,” he professes. “I tried to buy Starbucks on _my_ break, from you. I’ve swapped shifts with Isaac so much that he’s whining about his free time, but I keep doing it so I can be here if you come in.” He stops, swallowing. “I looked up your concertos on YouTube last night.”  
  
“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes, blinking at him.  
  
Derek nods, “yeah.”  
  
“Excuse me?” A woman in a navy blue pant suit interrupts, standing by the register. “Can I order?”  
  
Derek sends a look to Stiles, but levers himself up to ring in her order and make the latte, knowing the hell he'd pay if Laura caught wind that he'd told a customer off.  
  
“Laura wasn’t kidding,” Stiles marvels, voice filled with awe.  
  
Derek crosses his arms over his chest, the unease of embarrassment starting to creep in. “What did she say to you?” He asks again.  
  
Stiles smiles. “Nothing worth repeating,” he answers, shrugging. “Just something about gently kissing and asses,” his eyes widen and he flushes an impressive crimson. “Those two things weren’t related to each other,” he stutters.  
  
Derek chuckles at that, but Stiles continues, “I just—We’re both bad at this, obviously.”  
  
“Yeah,” Derek agrees and reaches across the bar slow enough to give warning before he tangles his fingers with Stiles’. “The end result’s not terrible, though.”  
  
He lets out a noisy breath at that, eyes flicking up from their joined hands to Derek’s face. “What is the end result, though?” Stiles asks quietly.  
  
“Dinner?” Derek asks cautiously.

“Okay,” Stiles acquiesces, his smile small as he nods. “I can do dinner.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s worse now that you’ve seen each other’s dicks,” Laura sneers at him, kicking him in the shin under the table.

“Jesus, you’re sad,” Laura says from where she’s leaning against the archway to the kitchen, a traveler’s mug of coffee in her hand she’s sipping from as she watches him. “He’s only been gone for a week.”

“Thirteen days,” Derek corrects and frowns down at his bowl of Apple Jacks that he’s only eating because Stiles left more than half a box in his apartment. “And he can’t come back up for another month.”  
  
She scoffs something out that sounds like a laugh as she rolls her eyes. “Get a webcam,” she suggests. “And have skype sex like every other long-distance couple.”  
  
He makes a face at her, shoving another spoonful in his mouth to save himself from replying. She sits down across from him, looking serious. “Stiles doesn’t like it either,” she admits. “I know because he sends me whiney texts about how the radio makes him think of you or some sappy shit like that.”  
  
“He likes to text me about how we should have sex in a blanket fort when he comes back,” Derek remarks and his spoon scrapes against the porcelain as Laura dramatically gags. He decidedly doesn’t smile smugly at the soggy floating green and red o’s, but Laura still makes a distressed noise at him.  
  
“It’s worse now that you’ve seen each other’s dicks,” Laura sneers at him, kicking him in the shin under the table.  
  
Derek's about to ask about her fixation on their sex life, but Isaac stumbles in looking groggy in his baggy pajama bottoms and bedhead. “Why are you always here?” He asks as he opens the fridge and pulls out the apple juice.  
  
Laura pouts and leans her chin on her open palm. “Isaac, honey,” she coos. “You’re making me feel unwelcomed.”  
  
“Good,” he shrugs and puts his poptarts in the toaster.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a small, brown package, totally unassuming, noted with Stiles thin but freakishly graceful swirls, and it’s addressed to the ‘Coffee Sex God’ in apartment 5B.
> 
> Isaac takes one look at it, then over at Laura who’s casually flipping through a magazine at the counter of NOT HER apartment, before announcing for the third time that month:
> 
> “That’s it, I can’t take this crazy anymore. I’m moving out.”

It’s a small, brown package, totally unassuming, noted with Stiles thin but freakishly graceful swirls, and it’s addressed to the ‘Coffee Sex God’ in apartment 5B.

Isaac takes one look at it, then over at Laura who’s casually flipping through a magazine at the counter of NOT HER apartment, before announcing for the third time that month:

“That’s it, I can’t take this crazy anymore. I’m moving out.” 

It’s a commonly uttered threat that’s never acted upon but Isaac is 85% sure that the brown box contains a webcam and he just can’t handle that.

“We’ll pack your stuff up on the weekend. Ohhhh what’s in the box?” 

“Do you even have a home?”

“It’s from Stiles isn’t it? Bet you it’s a webcam.” 

Isaac tossed the box onto the bench and Laura pounced, turning it over in her hands.

“We’re going to start charging you rent, I hope you know that.” 

“Whatever kidlink. Don’t you have to be at our work in like ten minutes?” 

“Oh shit,”

—————————————-

As it turns out, the box did contain a webcam — but it wasn’t at all for what you thought. 

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me. Or judge me. I’ve never done this before.”

“Stiles, come on,”

“Oi, there is a lot of pressure on me to perform and you need to be patient.”

“You promised.”

“I’m not backing out. Just… give me a minute okay?”

Derek sighed, shifting in his computer chair, fiddling with his headphones while Stiles ‘got ready’. There was a deep breath from the other end of the line and Stiles face was back again, too close to the lens, amber eyes wide and lips pulled into a nervous smile. 

“Ready?”

“Beyond ready,” 

Stiles snorted and edged away from the camera, bringing the whole room into view, settling himself on a black stool. 

“This would be so much easier if you were here…” he muttered, flexing his hands over the black and white keys. 

The webcam had contained a note: ‘for sexytimes and other things.’ It had already been used for ‘sexytimes’, more than once, since it’s arrival three days ago but this was the first ‘and other things’ besides pointless chatter. 

Stiles was going to play for him.

It wasn’t like he hasn’t heard Stiles play before, in recordings and things, but this was the first live, for lack of a better word, performance. 

More than that, Stiles was going to be playing an original piece — Derek already knew that it was going to be the song that Stiles had written for his mother, because it was his favourite creation and Stiles was playing him his favourite song. 

Stiles was also stalling. 

“Come on Stiles, you’ll do fine.”

“Hey you’re getting a free performance here buddy. People will pay $350 just for a few hours of all this and you’re freeloading it so hush.”

Derek chucked because sometimes it was easy to forget that Stiles was kind of famous — not a household name and he still needed to work when he wasn’t playing, but famous enough to leave an impression. 

“You sound like a prostitute.” 

“Yes well… same rules would apply now wouldn’t they, freeloader,” Stiles sniffed haughtily. 

Derek opened his mouth to snark in return but was silenced by the sight of Stiles fingers moving quick and sure across the keys, an easy scale drifting down his headphones, the sound surprisingly clear.

“Imma start, k?” Stiles mumbled, like he wasn’t really paying attention to Derek anymore, his tongue dampening his lips and his eyes dropping down a little. He gave a short little intake of breath, and the music started.

This is why it was different; watching Stiles play, the way he moved with the music, his long fingers dancing smoothly. He was different and similar all at once – silent in a way he never was usually but only because he was speaking without his words. It was easy to see the reflection of his constant movement, the little ticks of his fingers scattering over the counter or trickling up sweat-slicked skin here on the keys, to recognize the music that would have flowed from the patterns of unthinking twitches. Stiles focused on the music with the same single handed intensity that Derek had come to associate with mind-whiting orgasms and, on a few occasions, lazy conversations.

The music was different too from the recordings that Derek had heard and seen. You could see it in the hunch of his shoulders that he was still nervous in a way he never was on stage – the music was still flawless, but softer somehow, lightly asking for approval in a way that had never been sought before.  

Derek knew the song well. It was a light, happy tune, under-keyed with more serious notes that made themselves more prominent as the song played on, before crashing into minor chords that slowly, very slowly, worked their way back to the lighter notes that remained heavy with the deeper notes; Derek knew this came from the illness that slowly took Stiles mother away from him and him recovering from that.

As the song drew to an end Stiles eyes flickered back to where his computer was set up, to the image of Derek on the screen and the camera sitting just above it.

“So? Whatcha think?”

“I think… that I wish I was there with you because you’re gorgeous right now.”

“Haha,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes even as his cheeks flushed, “I meant the music dumbass.”

“So did I. You look amazing when you play,” Derek cocked his head to the side, grinning “I’m trying to work out how I could make you do that for me every day.”

Derek settled his chin on his hands and blinked repeatedly at Stiles in a mockery of an infatuated school girl.

“You’re so pretty,” he cooed, and then laughed when Stiles fingers slipped jarringly on the keys.

“Seriously though,” he added as Stiles corrected himself and the music was smooth again, “I love listening to your music. I love watching you play. It’s kind of like you’re still babbling at me but you’re saying something more than just words, ya know? Like you’re telling me about a person without actually telling me.”

“Yeah. Yeah I know,” Stiles said with a soft smile and Derek flushed, pleased.

The music changed, swelling into something energetic and loud, intrusive but not jarring or annoying.

“Laura,” Stiles offered and Derek grinned because it sounded just like her. His hands drifted down the keys to some lower, shyer notes, twisting into something calming and balanced with a childish innocence to it.

“Isaac?” Derek guessed and Stiles nodded with a grin of his own his fingers moving again in a new direction. It was a layered calm of indulgent love.

“I don’t…” Derek started but Stiles laughed lightly.

“Scott and Alison, since they’re practically inseparable,” and Derek nodded – he’d only met the young couple once because they were in San Francisco with Stiles, but he could recognize them in the notes from the webcam images of them. The music changed again, Stiles fingers tracing quick excitement which was met by a deep calm, a sporadic melody that layered with a smooth, consistent undertone. His eyes slid to the side, watching Derek with a small smile.

“Me… with you,” he offered lightly.

“Really?”

“Uh hu,”

Derek leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, listening to the way Stiles portrayed them in his music. He had to swallow sharply before opening his eyes again.

“Like it?” Stiles asked again softly as he finished playing, edging closer to the camera one more.

“Love it,” Derek said, his voice rough.

Stiles grin was blinding before it faltered off.

“I miss you,” he admitted, “actually being with you. Not that the webcam isn’t great and all it’s just… not the same.”

“I know.”

Stiles puttered his fingers against the laptop for a moment and Derek sighed wistfully.

“I miss you too you know. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grin was cheeky now, “I know. Now upup computer. The bedroom is thisaway.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Perfect, thanks,” Stiles smiles as he takes down the measurements. “Now go away and let me plan this before I try to have phone sex with you.”
> 
> Derek hums, noncommittal. “The apartment’s empty,” he says casually even as he peels his jacket off and throws it to the floor.

“What’s the dimensions of your bed?” Stiles asks as soon as Derek answers the phone.  
  
“Uh,” Derek answers, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door as he walks into his apartment. “I don’t know off the top of my head,” he mumbles and casts a glance to the kitchen in case Laura’s looking to torture him or steal their food. “Why do you need to know?”  
  
Stiles makes a frustrated noise and there’s a shuffle of papers in the background. “I’m drawing up schematics,” he explains, completely serious. “For the blanket fort.”

  
Derek stops, raising his brow before he realizes that Stiles can’t see him. “You weren’t joking,”  he breathes. “You really want to.”  
  
“Yes,” Stiles stresses. “Which is why I need the dimensions of your bed, so I know what I’m working with, Derek.” He waits a beat and there’s a percussion of his fingers tapping against the table he’s sitting at. “Go get a tape measure,” he commands.  
  
“Okay,” Derek agrees immediately and walks to the armoire in the hall where their junk drawer is, opening it to find the assortment of random hammers and screwdrivers he and Isaac have collected over the years, finding the fluorescent orange plastic he’s looking for.  
  
He kicks open his bedroom door, phone cushioned between his shoulder and cheek as he hesitates. “Do you want width or length first?” He asks, hovering at the foot of his bed.  
  
“Length?” Stiles huffs a laugh, sounding breathless. Derek rolls his eyes, knowing what type of thoughts are blooming behind Stiles' retina. “But, no, uh…” He trails off and Derek recognizes the sounds of him licking his lips. “Foot to head, first. Then side to side.”  
  
Derek hooks the metal to his headboard and drags the tape down to the bottom. “Eighty-two inches by…” He trails off and shifts, stretching his arm wide. “Eighty-six.”  
  
“Perfect, thanks,” Stiles smiles as he takes down the measurements. “Now go away and let me plan this before I try to have phone sex with you.”  
  
Derek hums, noncommittal. “The apartment’s empty,” he says casually even as he peels his jacket off and throws it to the floor.  
  
“Derek,” Stiles says, but it’s a warning. “That apartment is never empty,” he hisses, an old frustration of having to wait until the early morning hours for no one to bother them during their webcam indulgences.  
  
“It is now,” Derek says and moves to lock his bedroom. “Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.”  
  
“I hate that saying,” Stiles mutters, but the sound of a zipper being tugged downward follows after. “The Trojans literally didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and look where it got them.”  
  
He follows suit, shoving the denim down off his hips and laying out on the bed. “Stiles,” he enunciates roughly. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are about how much you want me to blow you, stop talking.”  
  
Stiles makes a wounded noise and the sloppy sound of skin meeting skin picks up on the tiny speaker. “I can work with that,” he sighs, strained. “I can definitely work with that.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s have blanket fort sex he said,” Derek muttered as he hit a dead end – there wasn’t a wall there so obviously Stiles had literally created a maze of Derek’s two bedroom apartment which, frankly, was an impressive feat – “it’ll be fun, he said,”

Derek is in the middle of suffering though Ms. Pickard once again doggedly attempting to set him up with her niece (whom Derek has met more than once – she’s in a long distance relationship and her aunt doesn’t approve so keeps trying to show off the ‘nice, available men’ around town) while Laura snickers at him from behind the cupcakes, when the door to the shop bangs open, the little bell crashing loudly.

“THAT’S. _IT!”_

The whole shop — 3 regulars plus the Hale siblings — is frozen as Isaac, sweet, innocent, sunshine and rainbow smiles Isaac, storms toward the counter looking thunderous. He levels a finger right at Derek (Ms. Pickard moved aside with an ‘oh, my word!’ but didn’t go far because she’s a nasty gossip who wouldn’t miss this for double coupon day at Benny’s) eyes narrowed and tense.

“This has gone too far, understand me? You’re not that bad to live with, I mean, there are problems of course, your sister is always around, and you always leave your keys in the door even though we’re going to get  _robbed_ one day, and you always do this weird thing with the steaks and never cook them enough, and the number of times I’ve walked in on you having sex in the past couple of months is boarding on ridiculous not to mention that whole awkward courting period you had but normally you’re an alright guy to live with and work with but this is TOO FAR,”

Derek took a step back from the counter, eyes wide in shock and hazelnut syrup still held in his grip, held in front of his chest in protection. He glanced towards Laura who was leaning against the counter with something akin to a bemusement, with chin in her hands and with a grin a mile wide, not even trying to top Isaac’s ranting.

“Isaac,” Derek tried because the normally shy and cuddly boy was now looking at him with crazy eyes, “are you okay?”

“Okay?! Am I okay?! I CAN’T GET INTO MY BEDROOM DEREK. I CAN’T EVEN GET PAST THE KITCHEN!”

“What? Why?”

“YOUR STUPID BOYFRIEND, THAT’S WHY!”

Laura’s cackle sounded out as Derek’s confused eyebrows grew deeper.

“Stiles?”

“YES,  _YOUR FUCKING STILES_!”

Derek’s face moved into a goofy smile and Isaac let out a loud groan.

“OH come  _ON_!”

Derek’s voice was unmistakably excited (by which, he attempted to sound gruff and uncaring while the back of his neck lit up red and his smile kept cracking out) as he asked:

“Stiles is here? But I thought he wasn’t going to be back for another week?”

Isaac’s head thumped against the counter loudly, and Laura stepped up to pat his curls.

“Don’t worry puppy, you can come and stay with me,” Laura cooed, and Isaac let out something that sound akin to a sob.

“ _You don’t even have an apartment!”_

——————————————————————

After Isaac’s slight mental breakdown, Derek was told to leave so that he could ‘deal with the insanity’ and Laura made Isaac sit in a corner with a red velvet chocolate cupcake and a cup of chamomile tea with a promise to keep him for at least one night.

Derek all but ran the two whole blocks to his apartment, forgoing the lift for the stairs, which he took two at a time, fumbling his keys when he hit the door and throwing it open – somewhere in the apartment a bell jingled shrilly, just like in the shop.  

“Stil—what. The. Hell.”

Derek only just managed to stop from banging into the tunnel, for lack of a better word, that was roughly the same height as his doorway, draped with colourful sheets. There was a bright yellow piece of paper attached to the entrance.

_Derek!_

_Hi baby! Surprise!_

_So I was sitting in my dorm making up designs for this blanket fort and thinking to myself that it would be awesome to make it a blanket kingdom, and then thinking about us having a kingdom (because we’d be kings, or at least you’d be my really attractive consort while I ruled with an iron but fair fist) and then I thought about how huge kingdoms are and how I’d probably get lost in a kingdom and you’d have to find me, and hey, hide and seek sex._

_So then I was like: Blanket Fort Sex AND Hide and Seek sex?_

_Yes and Yes._

_Of course this meant that I had to make the fort a lot larger. So really it’s a blanket maze. But you know what is normally at the centre of a maze?_

_A prize._

_AKA your bed._

_AKA me. Naked. And waiting._

_AKA – if you take too long I will finish without you and I will start from the moment the bell rings announcing that it’s you._

_So hurry up._

_— Stiles._

_P.S. Isaac came home while I was finishing the hallway and I don’t think he’ll be coming back but if this wasn’t Derek please shout that you weren’t Derek so that I can put on pants and make you leave. Or leave voluntarily, but please shout first because I’ll assume you’re Derek and. Yeah._

Derek swallowed.

“You little minx,” he muttered, crouching down to look down the tunnel. The only way to navigate it would be to crawl.

Reaching behind him, Derek pulled the door closed and slipped the locks into place carefully, before toeing out of his shoes and socks, stripping down to his boxer briefs (bright purple,  _thank you Laura_ ) and leaving his clothing by the door. He dropped to the floor and crawled forward, shaking his head in exasperation the entire time.

“Let’s have blanket fort sex he said,” Derek muttered as he hit a dead end – there wasn’t a wall there so obviously Stiles had literally created a maze of Derek’s two bedroom apartment which, frankly, was an impressive feat – “it’ll be fun, he said,”

Derek kept heading in the general direction of the bedroom, his back starting to hurt a little from the angle, when he heard a soft noise.

Or, more specifically, a soft  _moan_.

He was getting closer.

With renewed fervour, Derek followed the noises, which grew louder in volume as well as in the closing distance.

“Marco!” Derek called out when he very obviously hit a blanket wall which was covering the entrance of his room.

“Can’t do that! Ch-cheating!” Stiles called back indignantly, his voice sweetly broken and breathy.

Derek chuckled and looked around which way to go, but none showed a direction _towards_ that noise he’d been following and when Stiles let out a surprised sounding ‘oh!’ followed by a long groan, Derek decided that this  _was_ the entrance and with a growl, pulled the blankets apart.

What a sight.

The bed looked like a tent, covered and surrounded in more blankets, held up by PVC piping in a dipping but strong frame – the light from the window filtered through the thin sheets, bathing Stiles in soft, warm multi-coloured light.  

Stiles was spread on the bed on his back, feet planted against the mattress, back arched high and his hips in the air. Derek could see his fingers working in and out at a steady pace, his other hand curved around his cock, his face and chest flushed and sweaty with bite swollen red lips and fluttering lashes.

Simply and deliciously gorgeous.

Derek waited until he was standing over the bed to speak.  

“Found you,” he said, grinning as Stiles eyes snapped open.

“Ho… you broke the fort!” Stiles sat up quickly, his fingers slipping out as he tried to look behind Derek and inspect the damage.

“Did not,”

“That was not a door. You had to go around through the bathroom. THAT was the door.”

“I improvised,”

“You  _cheat—_ mmphh!”

Derek flattened Stiles back against the bed and there was only a few seconds of Stiles still attempting to talk and pushing with obviously weak shoves against his shoulders before settling into the kiss and giving as good as he got.

Derek leaned back to breathe, peppering Stiles nose and cheeks with little kisses while the younger man gasped for air, his hands scaling the sides of Stiles body lightly, just shy of ticklish.

“What was I saying?” Stiles asked, somewhat dazedly, and Derek grinned at him.

“No idea,” he said with a shrug, leaning back staring down at Stiles. Three weeks of grainy web chats and mildly unsatisfying sessions with his right hand had given him a fresh appreciation for the sight, smell, sound and just overall feel of Stiles being close again.

Stiles squirmed after a minute of his staring.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Immensely so,”

“Well then ignore what they told you as a kid and do me a favour; look with your hands. And mouth. And cock,”

Derek grinned, lowering his head to the skin just behind Stiles ear, mouthing at it lightly.

“God you’re impatient,”

 “ _Immensely so,”_ Stiles mocked, grabbing a handful of Derek’s ass and dragging him forward, moaning at the friction.

Derek chuckled, hard inside his underwear and dragged his lips down Stiles neck, sucking a mark and rolling his hips into a soft rhythm.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles breathed, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “come on, not enough,”

“I crawled, on my hands and knees, through a freakin’ maze for this, Stiles,” Derek murmured against his skin as he dragged a stubbled cheek lower across Stiles chest, “I’ll take my time if I want to.”

His lips closed around a nipple, making Stiles arch and buck.

“C-come on babe. I’m ready and open and good for you. You’ll have all the time in the world to tease me later. Just,” Stiles grabbed a handful of Derek’s hair, yanking him up so that their foreheads were resting together, “I missed you. I  _need_  you now Der,  _in_ me.”

Derek groaned because Stiles knew exactly what to say to get him to break and crashed their lips together in a kiss that might have been a tad too hard.

“I need you in me too,” Derek whined back like it was almost unfair and Stiles grin was wicked.

“After. Round two for that. And three. And four – all kinds of rounds for all kinds of things. Cuz I wanna do it many times. In many different positions.”

Derek laughed lightly and the kiss this time was a lot more enjoyable. Stiles reached across the bedspread without breaking contact and pressed a slightly slippery bottle and a foil square into Derek’s grip.

“Come on,” Stiles urged and Derek rolled his eyes, leaning away and pushing his underwear down, flicking them away with a twist of his ankle.

“You’re so pushy in bed,”

“You love it,”

“Sure do,” Derek grinned, tearing the foil and rolling the condom gently on before flipping the cap and pouring a liberal amount of lube over his fingers. Leaning down to kiss Stiles again, he spread it over his cock and wriggled into a better spot on the bed.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Wanna look at you,” Stiles murmured as he wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and the older man leaned over him, lining up and pushing very slowly inside.

“Ohhhh…” Stiles breathed out, his hands clenching and unclenching on Derek’s shoulders as Derek rotated his hips slowly, working deeper – he wasn’t especially huge, but he was quite thick where Stiles was slightly thinner and longer.  He stopped completely when he was all the way in, all the muscles in his back and arms tense like he wasn’t breathing, waiting for Stiles to adjust.

“Good?” he struggled out, asking permission to continue when Stiles started to squirm again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Stiles nodded, pushing his hips back against Derek’s, encouraging him to move.

It was slow going for the first few shifts, building up to something faster and harder. Derek dropped onto his weight onto his forearm beside Stiles head, hooking the other arm around one of Stiles knees and pulling it up over his shoulder, pressing them chest to chest while he moved and keeping Stiles cock trapped between them as he sped up.

“Oh mother of all the fucking  _gods,”_ Stiles let out and Derek laughed breathily, kissing Stiles before basically breathing into each other’s mouths, capturing moans and groans and little sounds on each other’s lips while Derek thrust hard and fast and Stiles pushed back desperately in a steady race to the end.

Stiles worked a hand into the small space between their bodies and wrapped it around himself, working to match Derek’s pace.

“Der, not gonna last much longer,” Stiles gasped out, tugging faster.

Stiles came between their chests with a series of light little ‘oh, oh, oh,’s and Derek slowed while tremors rocked up and down Stiles body, rubbing a hand soothingly over the thigh on his shoulder. After a minute Stiles pulled him into a messy kiss.

“Keep going,” he urged lightly, pushing his foot into Derek’s ass and clenching around him. Wordlessly Derek continued, grunting as he adjusted his weight and picked up the pace again albeit with less rhythm this time. It wasn’t long  before Derek was pushing as close as he could get and coming hard with a groan, the world going hazy for a minute while Stiles rocked almost lazily against him until it all became too much and he pulled out, falling to the side so as not to crush his boyfriend. He pulled the condom off, tying the end of it and tossing it in the general direction of a corner in the current sheet tent and pulled Stiles against him.

“Ugh, I’m all gross dude,” Stiles complained while Derek settled him in a comfortable spot.

“Doesn’t matter. Missed you,” Derek sighed happily, relaxing fully into the bed. Stiles wriggled closer, tossing a leg over Derek’s waist and wincing slightly at the pull before settling fully.

“Can’t argue with that. Nap, then round two.”

Derek snorted and Stiles laughed lightly against him. Their tent was warm, almost unbearably so, the air still and strong with the scent of sweat and sex but Derek wouldn’t change a thing about it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She purses her lips, arms crossed tightly as he glares at him. “You’re aware you have neighbors, right?” She asks, haughty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holly had said: "As a side-note, I feel like now we need to have a third person come into the cafe and yell at Derek for some reason or another and he sorta just goes "Why is everyone yelling at me at work?" Because everyone yells at Derek while he's at work. :P"
> 
> And since Holly wrote me blanket fort sex, how could I refuse her?

Derek rings up the last order, passing off the cup to Isaac before he turns to the next person in line. “What can I get you, miss?” He asks.  
  
She purses her lips, arms crossed tightly as he glares at him. “You’re aware you have neighbors, right?” She asks, haughty.

Derek blinks at her and hears Isaac stutter to a stop behind him. “What?” He asks dumbly.  
  
“You have _neighbors_ ,” she repeats, voice growing and attracting the attention of the other customers.  
  
“Yes,” Derek agrees, nodding quickly, hoping that she’ll stop holding up the line which is growing thinner in response to her outburst.  
  
“So, maybe,” she starts up. “You should stop having sex in your shower.”  
  
The other customers all pause, starting to stare at the altercation as Isaac stifles his laughter and starts back up on the drink he was working on. Derek cuts a glance to him before he looks back to the woman. “I’m sorry?”  
  
She nods. “You should be,” she fumed. “I don’t need to bewoken up at 5:30 in the morning, because you two couldn’t keep it in your pants.” She turns her focus to Isaac, who’s taken to leaning against the counter to watch the proceedings. “You’re not off the hook, either,” she starts in. “You live with this,” she makes a sweeping motion at Derek. “You should never fuck your roommate, that's mistake number one right there.”  
  
“No—” Isaac begins, his eyes wide as he shakes his head at the same time Derek sneers and says, “Isaac's just my roommate.”  
  
The woman throws her hands in the air and rolls her eyes. “Fine, who cares, I just don’t want to hear someone begging for you to go faster.”  
  
They both visibly cringe, but she continues on. “I don’t want to hear thebed frame slamming against the other side of my kitchen wall, and no one needs to hear how good he feels when he’s in you.”  
  
“Holy shit,” a girl gapes to her friend where they are in the corner.  
  
“Ma’am, please leave,” Isaac commands. “You’re making a scene.”  
  
Both Derek and the woman look to him in surprise. “ _Excuse me_?” She balks.  
  
“This really would have been better in a passive aggressive letter,” Isaac shrugs. “You like to listen to Lady Gaga every Friday night, but I don’t complain about that when I have the early shift the next morning.” He tosses the rag that was on his shoulder down, leaning towards her. “Dude’s in a sort of long-distance relationship and his boyfriend’s in town, give him some slack.”  
  
She huffs, stepping back. “Whatever,” she avers and leaves.  
  
“Why are people coming in to yell at me while I’m at work?” Derek sighs, looking like he wants to beat his head into the register.  
  
Isaac laughs. “Because you’re either here or with your tongue down Stiles’ throat,” he answers, still chuckling.  
  
The customers have shuffled back to their own conversations and Derek grumbles intelligibly until the door opens again. “Hey, babe,” Stiles greets, all wide smile and the chatter goes quiet again. “What’d I miss?” He asks, glancing around.  
  
“I’ll tell you later,” Derek answers, glaring at their patrons. “Your usual?” He asks, even though Isaac’s already turned to start making it.  
  
“Please,” Stiles grins, swaying closer when the cup's set down.  
  
“Hey,” Isaac greets, waving over Derek’s shoulder. “Maybe you guys should go to _your_ place instead tonight.”  
  
Stiles shifts, suddenly cautious. “Why?” He questions, voice stern.  
  
“A neighbor complained,” Derek admits, flushing down to his neck. “About how loud we are.”  
  
“Really?” Stiles snorts. “That’s _awesome_.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No kissing noises. No stories from my childhood. No referring to Chicago as Chitown. No James Dean jokes. No father with a shotgun stares—“
> 
> “But I am your father and I own a shotgun,”
> 
> “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT INTERRUPTING ME WHILE I’M QUOTING GILMORE GIRLS,”

Derek paused before hitting the bell, juggling a plate of homemade brownies (what. He works in a café, he learnt things) in one hand while the other hovered over the button– he could hear Stiles inside the door talking to his Dad and failing to whisper quietly. They’d obviously heard him pull up.

“—und rules. No kissing noises. No stories from my childhood. No referring to Chicago as Chitown. No James Dean jokes. No father with a shotgun stares—“

“But I am your father and I _own_ a shotgun,”

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT INTERRUPTING ME WHILE I’M QUOTING GILMORE GIRLS,”

Derek slapped a hand over his mouth to smother the snort. There was a moment of terse silence in which Derek imagined an apology being delivered completely in Stilinski Sign Language.

“Look,” he heard Stiles sigh, “I like this guy Dad. Like like. Like like, like a lot okay,” Derek felt his cheeks heat up and he bit his lips on a smile, “I don’t want to fu— _screw_ it up and I really don’t need any help making a fool of myself. So could you please just… hold off?”

There was another small moment of quiet from beyond the wood.

“Jesus. You really love this guy, don’t you?”

Derek panicked and hit the bell.

He didn’t want to hear Stiles response because if he said yes then… but if he said _no_ then…

To be honest he wasn’t really ready to hear either.

Derek heard scrambling and a yelp that was suspiciously Stiles sounding before the door swung open and he was greeted by Sherriff Stilinski grinning smile.

“Ah Derek! It’s nice to meet the other half of all those noise complaints I’ve been receiving in person.”

Derek winced on Stiles’ forehead’s behalf and hoped there wasn’t a hole in the wall where he was banging his head.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“That… actually wasn’t so bad,” Stiles mused four hours later when he was sprawled across the couch with his feet in Derek’s lap.

“Stiles, he threw a box of condoms at your head and then cleaned his _entire_ gun collection after dinner while heavily implying that I would become target practice if I so much as looked at you the wrong way.”

“Yeah, I know. It was way better than I expected.”

“How was that better than you expected?”

“Well you didn’t _actually_ get shot.”

Derek stared down at Stiles for a long time before cracking.

“Was that a possibility?!”

Stiles shrugged nonchalantly as he flicked through the channels of the TV, not even looking at Derek and his mildly horrified expression.

“I dunno. You’re the first guy I’ve ever brought home. This was un-chartered waters.”

Stiles head snapped around to where Derek was giving him a smile that was bordering on soppy, sensing the emotional shift.

“I’m the first guy you introduced to your Dad?” He asked quietly, eyes sparkling.

“Pffft, no,” Stiles countered quickly, his face heating up, “he’s met all my boyfriends and girlfriends. All of them. All the people. Stop smiling. Stop it,” Stiles kicked hard against Derek’s thigh, “don’t you laugh at me,”

Derek launched across the couch while Stiles huffed and whined, the unexpected movement causing him to yelp and twist awkwardly but Derek achieved his goal of closing his lips over Stiles.

“You’re a huge dork,” he murmured between presses of his lips, “and I really, really like you. Like like you. Like like you, like a lot.”

“Oh my god,”

“Also how long have you watched Gilmore Girls for because I have serious suspicions about your talking speed concerning that sh—umpff!”

Stiles sunk into the couch, ignoring the strange twist of his spine in favour of enthusiastically making out with his boyfriend.

“Any chances you wanna take this to my childhood bedroom,” Stiles gasped out while Derek nipped at his jaw, “cuz no offense or anything but this is kinda – _yes_ – kinda killing my back and I need that for you know. Walking and fucking – ah, shit – and playing piano and stuff.”

Derek pulled back immediately, pulling Stiles up with him. The younger grinned, his face flushed.

“Your Dad said not too,” Derek warned and that wasn’t a joke – he had explicitly said ‘Don’t have sex while I’m at work, I will know’ and he’d been _glaring right at Derek while he said it._ Stiles snorted at him, patting his cheek.

“It’s cute how you’re all worried and nervous but that bed hasn’t seen any two person action yet and it totally deserves it after years of just me,” he hopped up, yanking Derek up with him and immediately pressing himself against Derek’s chest, lips against his ear and hands on his hips, “and if you’re a very good boy and refrain from mentioning my father for the next couple of hours I’ll even rim you before I fuck you.”

Stiles’ bed was _very_ thoroughly broken in.

\-----------------------------------------

(The next time Derek saw the Sherriff he was at work and the older man glared at him from his table in a way that clearly said ‘I know what you did under my roof and the retributions will be extensive’. Derek sent Isaac over with a giant slice of red velvet cake and a caramel latte with full cream milk, on the house, and the glare was replaced with an approving nod. Derek hid out the back of the store and panicked about how to tell Stiles that Derek was going to going killing his father with baked goods to avoid being shot for the rest of his shift.) 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to break up with you,” Derek blurts out as soon as they’re both in the car, quickly following it up with: “I don’t like when you’re not here.” He’s got a tight grip on the keys because he hasn’t started the engine yet, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's getting their ass kicked by term papers?  
> If you guessed me, you'd be correct.
> 
> (Basically, I'm sorry this took forever. But, term papers, man. Term papers.)

Stiles makes a sleepy grumble as he rolls over into the warm spot Derek left. “Don’t,” he says into the pillow, fingers grasping weakly at the sheets.  
  
Derek snorts in amusement, leaning to kiss his shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he promises and ties up the laces of his cross-trainers.  
  
“Or you can stay and we can have morning sex,” Stiles suggests, turning his face so he can leer at Derek, only to squint at the morning sun streaming in through the blinds. “You can ride me and feel like you’re working yourglutes.”  
  
“Tempting,” Derek deadpans back as he stands and pulls on a hoodie. “But, seriously. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”  
  
Stiles flops his hand uselessly, dismissing him as he rolls over and hugs the pillow to his chest. “I’d offer to make coffee for when you get back,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “But, y’know,” he finishes lamely and stretches his legs out. “Try not to get lost.”  
  
Derek snorts, presses his mouth against the shell of Stiles’ ear. “Thirty minutes,” he repeats and leaves.  
  
—  
  
“It’s still too early,” Stiles whines from the bed, in the same pose Derek left him in before he went for his run. He props himself up, watching as Derek rifles around the drawers looking for a pair of jeans.  
  
Derek shoots a unimpressed look over his shoulder, but it goes unnoticed by Stiles as he tracks a droplet of water sliding down Derek’s back, still damp from his shower. “If you get up now we can still make it to Blueberry Hill in time for their breakfast,” he suggests and pulls the denim up his thighs.  
  
“It’s not worth it,” Stiles hisses and pulls the duvet up around his head.  
  
Derek snorts and tugs on his shirt. “I’ll buy you French Toast,” he vows, knowing how much Stiles swears by their food, even if they were only open for the breakfast rush.  
  
“You should get me French Toast no matter what,” Stiles defends even though he’s already battling his way out of the comforter to roll off the mattress. He stretches his arms up with a dramatic grunt, arching his back and twisting his arms up.  
  
Derek rolls his eyes, watching Stiles pad to the closet so he can dig through the various shirts he’s left. “You’re not going to shower?” He asks as Stiles pulls a t-shirt over his head, hand making a sweeping brush over the STARK INDUSTRIES logo on his chest.  
  
“Who am I trying to impress?” Stiles shoots back, stepping into the jeans he was in the night before. “I already have you, it’s not like I can go up from here.”  
  
Derek snorts, nudging him towards the bedroom’s door. “Shut up and go brush your teeth,” he commands over Stiles’ laughter.  
  
“Seriously,” Stiles insists as he pulls Derek into the hall so he can get into the bathroom. “Ms. Jameson keeps congratulating me, and Mrs. Whitby says I’m the bane of her daughter’s life,” he says with an unbridled amount of glee, squeezing too much Colgate on to his toothbrush.  
  
—  
  
Stiles lets out a loud moan at the first bite of his breakfast. “I’m sorry,” he says around the mouthful of sweet fruit syrup and whipped cream. “For every time I cursed your militant sleeping schedule. Because this,” he motions to his plate, “was definitely worth it.”  
  
Derek quirks his eyebrow, watching the mess Stiles makes as he cuts off another bite. “Do you need a moment alone with your French Toast?” He asks behind his glass or cranberry juice.  
  
“Worried that I’ll leave you for the chef?” Stiles asks with a smirk, reaching out to stab into Derek’s untouched hash browns and push his bacon strips forward.  
  
Derek shrugs. “You went out with me because you liked my coffee,” he accuses jokingly.  
  
Stiles kicks him under the table. “Asshole,” he laughs.  
  
“Everything good here, boys?” The waitress asks, pouring more orange juice into Stiles’ glass.  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Derek nods, stabbing into his eggs and breaking the yolks.  
  
Stiles grins, still watching Derek. “I haven’t had a bad meal here yet.”  
  
She hums, leaning against the table. “That’s good,” she nods. “Can I get you anything else?”  
  
“We’re good,” Stiles answers, prompting her into walking away. He takes another scoop of Derek’s potatoes, shoving it into his mouth. “You don’t have to worry,” he says after swallowing. “Paul’s been married to Cathy since before I was born.”  
  
“Now I only have to worry about the sous-chef,” Derek smirks and rips the meat off Stiles’ bacon strips.  
  
Stiles leans back, his plate demolished and clean. “No, you don’t,” he promises. “But, you might have to worry that Isaac’s going to pop an artery.”  
  
“Why’s that?” Derek asks, finishing off his Eggs Benedict.  
  
Stiles reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and swiping for his text messages that display a long diatribe about his lack of milk and other food in the apartment. “We’re going to need to do some grocery shopping,” he says as Derek reads them.  
  
Derek snorts. “Okay,” he agrees. “Just go to Safeway after I pay?”  
  
“Sure,” Stiles nods, taking a drink.  
  
—  
  
“We’re almost out of Cheerios,” Stiles says, looking up at the signs, finding the “BREAKFAST CEREALS,” sign before he turns, Derek trailing after with the basket full of chips and a box of snack cakes that Stiles insisted on, along with Isaac’s milk.  
  
They stand facing the wall of brightly colored boxes, the various mascots looking back before Derek reaches for the yellow one with the heart-shaped bowl on its cover.  
  
“No,” Stiles chastises, swatting at his hand. “I’m bored with that, let’s get Captain Crunch.” At Derek’s questioning look, he flaps his arm in an imitation of Vanna White. “Or whatever else, there’s _choices_ , Derek.”  
  
“I know,” Derek nods. “But I like Cheerios.” He makes another grab for the box, ignoring Stiles’ huff of annoyance. “And it’s not like you’re still here in a week for it, anyway.”  
  
“Wow, really?” Stiles glares, watching him set the basket down as he rearranges everything to make it fit. “You’re going there over a box of Cheerios?”  
  
Derek shrugs at him, keeps his head down. “You’re going back to San Francisco soon,” he says. “I don’t want to be responsible for your sugary cereal again, just because you didn’t finish it.”  
  
Stiles rears back, visibly offended in a way Derek knows he shouldn’t find endearing right now. “Only boring people and the elderly like Cheerios,” he tuts. “I should know, because my dad’s supposed to eat it.  _When he’s not scarfing down cake from your shop_.”  
  
Derek freezes, still half-way bent over the basket. “It was only a slice,” he admonishes and stands back to his full height, leaving it on the floor.  
  
Stiles crosses his arms, mouth set in a firm line. “Is it?” He asks. “Or are you going to fork one over every time he glares at you? Because, news flash: he’s going to do that a lot.”  
  
“A lot?” Derek echoes. He’s getting angry—a response to Stiles’ own fuming,  evident in his tense shoulders and hard-set jaw.  
  
Stiles laughs coldly, hands thrown up like he can’t do anything. “He keeps quoting long-distance relationship statics at me, like we’re on some timer.”  
  
Derek shrugs, unsure what to say. He knows remind him that they kind of are, the date Stiles has to drive back already circled in three different sharpie colors on his calendar.  
  
But, Stiles takes the silence as an answer, shoulders falling. “I’ll meet you at the car,” he mutters, turning to walk away.  
  
“Stiles,” Derek calls after him, but only gets a dismissive hand wave in response.  
  
—  
  
Stiles is leaning against the passenger side when Derek gets out, plastic bags in both hands because he caved and bought the Captain Crunch, too. He isn’t looking at Derek, though. He just sighs and turns, hand on the handle, waiting until Derek finishes shoving the bags into the trunk.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Derek says when he unlocks the doors, but Stiles only nods at him and gets in, which is the most unsettling thing.  
  
“I don’t want to break up with you,” Derek blurts out as soon as they’re both in the car, quickly following it up with: “I don’t like when you’re not here.” He’s got a tight grip on the keys because he hasn’t started the engine yet, either.  
  
“Derek—“  
  
“No,” he cuts him off. “I just—“ He sighs, deflating. “I don’t like it when you’re not here,” he repeats. “Laura says I mope and Isaac has to take all my shifts for at least two days after you leave.” He shoves the key into the ignition, still scowling. “I don’t like reminders that you’re not near me every day.”  
  
They hit three red lights in silence before Stiles squirms and cracks. “I talked to Laura when I first got back,” he says. “About your vacation days.”  
  
“I don’t have vacation days,” Derek rejects automatically, earning a snort from Stiles.  
  
“Yeah, you do,” he insists. “It’s a little over a month, by the way.” The silence drags as Derek takes a left-hand turn down Vallero. “Because I wanted to know how long I could invite you to stay in my apartment,” Stiles says once he realizes that Derek’s still waiting on him for an explanation.  
  
“Oh,” Derek breathes out. “So, you’re not—“  
  
“ _No_ ,” Stiles huffs, letting his arm fall so he can grab ahold of the inside of Derek’s elbow. “Of course not.” He squeezes and let's go, pulling back into himself. “The offer’s still on the table, by the way,” he mutters and bounces his knees. “If that’s something you’d want.”  
  
“Yeah,” Derek nods, letting a small smile form. “I’d love to.”  
  
Stiles smiles, head ducking shyly. “Good,” he hums and leans across the console so he can nip at Derek’s shoulder.  
  
“Make up sex?” Derek hazards, quiet over the rumble of the engine as they pull in to the parking garage for his complex.  
  
Stiles laughs, loud with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. “Yeah,” he nods. “It's the only kind we haven't had yet, let's get in on that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://www.foldedpinup.tumblr.com) is my tumblr if you feel like yelling at me.  
> [This](http://www.captainnaustralia.tumblr.com) is Holly's Tumblr.


End file.
